Chapter 4 Dylan

　　Again, I imagined the slender woman sitting in the kitchen, her long blonde hair and smooth heart-shaped face undeniably beautiful. It was why I couldn’t share a room with her, despite the hurt I knew it caused her. After all, I was still a hot-blooded male who saw how god-damned beautiful she was—every day. I didn’t trust myself to share a bed with such a beautiful woman and keep my hands to myself. I knew Cherry was only eighteen and likely hadn’t had any experience with guys. After all, from the age of eleven, she’d known she was destined to be my mate and the future Luna of the Starsmoon pack. She deserved her first time to be with someone who truly cared for her. And although I found her beautiful and desirable because of my parents and the future they’d decreed for us, Cherry came with too many trappings. I was a future Alpha. My future wouldn’t be dictated to me by anyone. 　　Once, after a few beers, I’d confessed all this to Bert, my Beta, and friend. He’d advised me to try things with Cherry. To get to know her for herself. He’d told me that he knew her better than I did, and he could see how she could be right for me if I only gave her a chance. Bert was only a couple of years older than Cherry. He’d hung around with her and had lessons with her when they’d been kids. They’d shifted together as juvenile wolves and gotten into the usual scrapes that the young’uns all did, egging each other on with dares to run into ranch-land or stalk the suburbs of Seattle. 　　Bert claimed Cherry had been one of the most daredevil wolves in those feats. Fearless. A Luna in the making. For some reason, Bert’s stories about Cherry’s perfectness for me had only made me mad. I mean, where was the daredevil wolf he spoke about? If she was, how could she be okay with what fate had dished out to us? Where were her wolf’s stubbornness and aggression? Why was she just rolling over? She was the epitome of domesticated: always cooking and cleaning for me. Hell, recently, she’d even been mending my clothes, claiming when I told her that she didn’t have to that she liked it. 　　Who the hell likes sewing? 　　But the night Bert had tried to change my mind with his adventurous stories about Cherry, I’d been so pissed-off that my friend was trying to trap me into this oppressive life, too, that I’d told him that if he thought her so brilliant, he should pop her cherry. 　　The words hadn’t been out of my mouth for more than a second before Bert decked me. Hard. My own Beta. Any other time I’d have fought back at such disrespect. But that night, I’d walked away from him, ashamed of myself. Cherry deserved more respect than that. 　　With a sigh, I clicked open another email, hoping to find something to occupy my thoughts. 　　Then, a gentle knock sounded at the door. “Yeah?” I called out. 　　Cherry pushed open the door, carrying a steaming mug. Another of her nightly habits, especially if I didn’t join her for dinner. She’d warm up a cup of milk and bring it to me. 　　“Hey,” she settled the cup on my desk. “Don’t work too hard. Remember, it’ll still be there in the morning, and a future Alpha needs his rest.” She smiled sweetly. 　　I stared at her, thinking about how much she kept on trying, no matter how much I kept pushing her away. Her grey stare was pensive, but there was something else there. Fondness. I was struck with the thought that she would keep treating me well, no matter how many times I pushed her back. 　　I offered her a warm smile. “I won’t, I promise.” I picked up the mug, bringing it to my lips, hoping it would give her some satisfaction to see me drink. 　　The milk was just the right temperature, with a tiny hint of honey, and before I knew it, I’d downed it. As I brought the empty cup down from my mouth, I noticed Cherry’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 　　God damn it. 　　Too late. I realized this was the first time I’d finished any of the drinks she’d brought me. Usually, I left half-finished cups here in my study. I guess as a not-so-subtle protest that, I wouldn’t submit to any part of the mating bond. 　　I shrugged, trying to downplay what just happened. “You made it perfectly.” 　　With the back of my hand, I wiped a stray drop of milk from the corner of my mouth and then noticed Cherry’s intent stare slipping to my lips. I spotted the way her throat bobbed as she watched. 　　“Thanks,” I said abruptly, setting the mug down and turning my attention back to the computer screen, pretending the email in front of me had me absorbed. 　　“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice husky, before picking up the mug and leaving the room. 　　As I read the same line over and over, the echo of her breathy voice rang in my ears, and a while later, I realized that my fingers kept touching the corner of my mouth as if her gaze had left a mark.